


Ain’t no rest for the wicked

by palacegate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, M/M, Zombies, idk have fun, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palacegate/pseuds/palacegate
Summary: “Where you headed?” He asked, hurrying to catch up with the guy’s large paces as he walked out of the street, looking for somewhere to find food.“Alaska.”“Me too.” Bucky nodded. “Might as well travel together, right? I haven’t had actual human interaction in a few weeks now.”





	Ain’t no rest for the wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably super shit, but I tried!

Bucky hadn’t eaten in three days. He’d thought he’d had more energy bars than he did, so he munched through them at his own pace, until he couldn’t find any more in his pack.

He’d raided multiple service stations a few weeks ago, dumping copious amounts of small snack items into his backpack, preparing for the long trek ahead of him. 

He’d been surprised that there were so many resources left in the towns he passed through, considering it had been a few months since the world officially ended.

Or maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Only about a quarter of the population were immune to the initial airborne virus. Those who weren’t became what were called the living dead, by the media. Bucky thought that was their attempt at trying to make the situation a little less ridiculous, but the general public just called them what they were: zombies.

After the airborne virus was released, due to some laboratory malfunction, those who were immune, generally began to travel north. There were rumours that the virus hadn’t reached Alaska because due to it’s cold temperature, it couldn’t survive. 

Though this was never confirmed, people still travelled up there, clinging to what hope was left. 

Bucky was in the south of the USA when the virus broke out, reuniting with army buddies in Texas. 

Miraculously, they all seemed to be in the 25% of people immune to the airborne virus. 

However, this didn’t mean they were immune to it completely. It could still be transferred through bodily fluids, as they found out when Dernier got bit. 

He’d groaned and complained of burning sensations, which they’d all thought was just infection. ‘It’ll be fixed, we just need to find a pharmacy to raid.’ They’d told him. 

It wasn’t until Bucky had to put a bullet in his head, when he lunged for Gabe, that they realised what was going on. 

Until that point they’d thought it was inevitable that they’d make it up to Alaska. They were immune to the virus, after all. As long as they didn’t get too mangled by the zombies, they’d be fine. It’d be a cake walk. 

But they weren’t immune to the virus, not completely. 

So they stocked up on anything that would suffice as a weapon. Heavy wooden objects, scrap metal, anything would do. 

They agreed to take it slow. ‘I’d rather get to Alaska in two years, than not at all.’ Dum Dum had said. 

They agreed it would be too risky to just speed through the journey. They could miss something, get ambushed. It wasn’t worth the risk.

But then Morita was bitten, pulling a zombie off of Monty and Gabe got a pretty nasty scratch from one off them, wrestling it away from Dum Dum. 

They sat in the gas station they’d claimed as a make shift base, trying to figure out what to do. Both Morita and Gabe were telling Bucky and the others to kill them before it was too late. 

“I want to die while I’m still me, fellas.” Gabe had claimed. “I don’t want to go out as a one of those.” He made a face and Morita nodded in agreement. 

Dum Dum and Monty had complained and told them they might make it yet, just hold on.

But Bucky knew it was unlikely. He still didn’t want to have to kill either of them though. 

“I was the one who shot Dernier.” He said. They all knew that. They just didn’t speak about it. 

“I shot one of my pals. And I can live with that, because he wasn’t Dernier anymore. It doesn’t mean I’m happy with what I did, I still hate myself for it.” He took a deep breath. “But I’d hate myself even more if he was still Dernier. Now that’s something I couldn’t live with.” 

Dum Dum clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be alright, Sarge.” 

“Just don’t put that on us.” He looked a Gabe and Morita. “Please.” 

Later that day, Gabe turned. Monty was the one to put a bullet in him this time. 

Three days later and Morita still hadn’t turned. They hadn’t done much work on his bite mark, assuming the worst would happen and it wouldn’t be worth using the supplies. 

But Morita never turned. And by the time they were confident that he wouldn’t, his shoulder was past the point of infection, and couldn’t be saved. He died a week after he was bit. 

They all felt awful. He could’ve been saved, he was immune. It was their fault. 

They didn’t have time for self pity though. They had to get to Alaska to have any real chance of survival. 

But by the time they’d reached Nebraska, Monty was gone. 

By the time they reached Montana, Dum Dum was gone. 

It was just Bucky, and he had to walk through Canada, alone. He planned his route carefully, missing out the bigger towns and cities, deciding to stick to more rural areas to avoid the hoards.

But then he was in the middle of a forest, with no clue where the nearest store was that he could raid, having not eaten in three days. 

So he began walking in the direction of the nearest road he saw on his map. When he finally got there, it was bare, empty and barren. 

He walked along to road, following his map north. He walked for what felt like days, but was probably hours. Under the scorching sun, no trees for shelter, time seemed to move at a snails pace. 

He checked his map. He was getting closer and closer to Vancouver, with no signs of a service station or a small store he could scavenge from. 

God damn, he was going to have to raid a store in Vancouver, wasn’t he? 

Bucky was confident he was going to die, but between starvation and zombies, zombies seemed like the least painful option. 

He eventually reached Vancouver, yet not a zombie in sight. It was suspicious. Even the smallest of towns usually had a small hoard to greet you at the border. 

But it was eerily silent. Bucky walked through the streets, still staying defensive, aware of the possibility of ambush, looking for a store that would have in date food. 

He was about to walk into a rundown convenience store, when he heard it. Gunshots. 

Either the zombies had learnt to use guns, or he’d found survivors. 

He hoped it was the latter, and that they had food. 

He followed the sound of gunfire, makeshift wooden spear ready to defend himself if needed. 

His ears led him to a street between two industrial buildings. He couldn’t see much, through the sheer amounts of zombies stalking down the road.

Every now and again a zombie would drop, a bullet through it’s brain. Whoever it was that was shooting had good aim. And that was coming from an army sniper. 

Bucky didn’t want to step forward to help and risk getting shot. If he couldn’t see the other survivors, then the other survivors probably wouldn’t see him. 

So he stayed crouched behind one of the buildings, waiting for all of the zombies to fall down so he could eventually introduce himself to his fellow human being. 

But then the gunfire abruptly stopped, and didn’t start up again. 

So Bucky took that as his cue to step in. He slinked forwards quietly, getting as close as he could before alerting the zombies to his presence. He made it pretty close before a few spotted him. 

They snarled, blue mouths dripping with saliva and remnants of blood. Bucky didn’t hesitate in jabbing his spear through their eyes. 

It was natural to him, after so long of fighting off hoards in life or death situations. His army training also came as a benefit. 

He slammed multiple zombie heads into walls, damaging their craniums so much that it was enough to kill them. 

His knife also came in handy, at such a close range, penetrating skulls and leaving the living dead crumpled on the floor. 

He had to admit, he was good at staying alive, but it’d be much quicker with his rifle. Hopefully this new survivor could help with that, considering the sound of gunfire. 

He looked around, surveying for anymore enemies, only to see a tall blond man, wearing a white shirt that clung to him, coated in blood, snapping the neck of a zombie, letting it drop to the floor. 

He was quite attractive, now that Bucky thought about it. 

He hadn’t had much time to think about men in the middle of the end of the world, and he doubted that it was the time to do it, after massacring a hoard of zombies. 

But the guy’s blue eyes were reaching his through the darkness and Bucky could see he was well built, even under all the blood and dirt. 

Bucky suddenly because aware of how knotty his hair was and how long it’d been since he’d attempted any kind of wash or rinse. He was disgusting. Yet this guy was comparable to Greek god, despite the fact he was adorned with zombie guts and blood.

“I had it.” The blond grunted, breathing heavily.

“Sure you did.” Bucky snorted, wiping his brow. 

“I ran out of amo, I could’ve been done with the rest in less than five minuets.” He protested.

“Yeah you’re welcome.” Bucky said. Then after a thought. “You got any food?” 

“That really all that’s on your mind right now?” The hot guy sighed, exasperated. 

“I haven’t eaten in three days. I gave up precious time that I could’ve spent looking for food on saving your sorry ass.” Bucky grinned. “So the least you can do is feed me.” 

The guy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I got food. I did come to get more though, so we can find somewhere to search.” 

So this guy was already referring to them as a collective. Which was interesting. Not that Bucky was complaining. 

“Where you headed?” He asked, hurrying to catch up with the guy’s large paces as he walked out of the street, looking for somewhere to find food.

“Alaska.” 

“Me too.” Bucky nodded. “Might as well travel together, right? I haven’t had actual human interaction in a few weeks now.” 

Bucky hadn’t actually let himself mourn his friend’s deaths yet. He’d do that when he got to Alaska, when he could relax.

“Only a few weeks? Try a few months.” The guy tossed over his shoulder. 

“Ah, that would explain your shitty people skills.” 

The guy let out a chesty laugh at that. And Bucky wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. 

“I’m Steve. By the way.” 

“Bucky.” Bucky replied.

Steve raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Army buddies gave it to me. Too many fellas called James so I got Bucky. My middle name is Buchanan, where they got it from.” Bucky explained.

Steve just nodded in acknowledgement. 

Steve stopped outside a supermarket. Bucky didn’t know how long they’d walked for, but he hadn’t seen the store on his way around the city before finding Steve, so it must’ve been a while. 

“Stay with me, only grab small things we need. Stay quiet, we don’t know what’s in there.”

Bucky nodded, but rolled his eyes internally. How else did Steve think he survived for months during the end of the world? He knew what he was doing and didn’t appreciate being spoken down to. 

But he kept his mouth firmly closed. His pride wasn’t worth his life. 

They crept into the supermarket, poised for attack. They walked up the aisles, grabbing whatever they deemed useful. They were about to walk up the toiletry aisle when Bucky caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. 

He turned to try and grab Steve’s attention. But he was gone. God damnit. 

Bucky considered it for a moment, before turning to follow the movement he caught. 

He walked along the clothing racks, hearing the rustling of fabric every now and again. Bucky knew there was something here. He also knew it was likely a zombie.

Bucky fooled himself into thinking he had the advantage. It left him vulnerable. He knew he should’ve been more prepared when a zombie pounced on him from behind, pinning him to the ground. 

Bucky grunted, trying to thrown an elbow at the zombie to knock it off balance. It didn’t go flying, but it’s grip on Bucky’s shoulders loosened, allowing him to get some leverage and throw it off him. 

Somewhere in the scuffle, Bucky’s spear had slid across the aisle. He lunged for it, only for the zombie to knock him on his ass, pinning him to the ground once again. It’s grip on Bucky’s wrists was more firm this time, and he couldn’t find the energy or strength to push him off.

This was how he was going to die. In a dingy Canadian supermarket, pinned under a drooling zombie. At least he got to hear Steve’s laugh before he bit the bullet.

But then the weight on his shoulders was relieved and the zombie was being slammed on the ground by Steve, head smashing against the tiles. 

Bucky lifted his head up, watching Steve wipe his brow. 

He leaned down to Bucky, offering his hand. “You good?” 

Bucky took his hand, letting himself be hauled to his feet. “Yeah. Guess we’re even now.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Let’s get out of here, it’s getting dark. We need to set up camp.” 

They left the supermarket, satisfied with what they’d gathered. 

They walked for a while, making small talk, suggesting places to set up. 

They settled on a clearing in the forest. Far enough from any urban areas that they were safe from the hoards that swarmed the city at night, but not too far that they couldn’t gather emergency supplies if needed. 

After they set up a small fire and pitched one of their tents, they sat down on a makeshift bench, made from a log, and began to eat their makeshift dinner. 

“You sure you’re good?” Steve asked, mouth around a protein bar.

Bucky nodded. “I’ll be damned if I let one near miss get to me.” 

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.” 

They ate in silence for a few more moments before Steve spoke up. “I don’t mean to pry, but you said you hadn’t had human interaction in a few weeks. What happened?” 

Bucky sighed. He hadn’t spoken about it yet. Him and the guys wanted to just pull through, get out alive before they mourned anyone. But there wasn’t anyone left besides Bucky.

“There were six of us, when all this started. As you can see. There’s just me now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All of us were together in the army, it’s why we were together when it all broke out. We were having a reunion style thing.” 

“Sounds like the best possible group of people to be around during something like this.” Steve said.

Bucky snorted. “So you’d think. But we were in a rush to get to Alaska, thought we were immune to the virus, no matter what form it took. So we didn’t bother gathering weapons. We were invincible right?” 

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky smiled back. “We didn’t realise we weren’t until Dernier got bit. After that we couldn’t find any guns, hardly and legitimate weaponry. We got picked off one by one. Now it’s just me left.” 

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been awful.” Steve said, genuinely.

“It was. It is. But I can’t let it get to me right now.” Bucky put on a smile. “Anyway. What about you? You said it’s been a few months. That’s a long time. Must’ve been rough.”

“I worked in the lab the virus came from.” Steve’s head was down, shameful. 

Bucky’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I was a bodyguard for Peggy Carter. I don’t know the full story, I didn’t make a habit of listening in, none of it mattered to me. But there were rumours of another war staring.” 

That was news to Bucky.

“From what I gathered, some shady government department called HYDRA commissioned some scientists to make serum for super soldiers. They wanted to create genetic super weapons.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “How were they going to do that?” 

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. “It didn’t work out. Peggy’s department tried shutting it down, said it needed more research, but the scientists who created it said there wasn’t time. They injected it into a guy called Schmidt, to prove themselves.” 

Bucky listened intently. This was all news to him, he didn’t know what would be worse though. A war or a zombie apocalypse.

“Schmidt was the first living dead. It didn’t work. He went on a rampage, turned or killed anyone who was in the lab and smashed the vials of serum in the process.” 

“How’d you get out of that?” Bucky asked.

“Peggy.” He smiled fondly at her name. Bucky felt a tug of jealousy. “She said we should send the entire facility into lockdown, contain the breach. But we got to the control room and everything was destroyed beyond use. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, the virus was already in the air.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know that right?” Bucky said, noticing the look of guilt across Steve’s face. 

“It’s hard to believe it when I’m the only one who got out alive.” Steve sighed.

“So Peggy didn’t make it?” 

Steve shook his head. “Locked herself in the control room. Said there were too many of them for both of us to make it without somebody having eyes on the whole place. She said that if anybody could bring down HYDRA it would be me. She was wrong. If anybody could do it, it would be her. I’m only a bodyguard.”

“She must’ve really believed it to sacrifice herself like that.” Bucky pointed out. 

“She shouldn’t have done it. We both could’ve made it out. I wouldn’t have left her if it wasn’t for the guilt trip she led me on about how it was her dying wish that I survive.” Bucky notices Steve’s eyes getting glassy.

“She seems really important to you.” 

“She was. She was one of the few people who really understood me, you know? I never told her how important she was. It’s got to be one of my biggest regrets.” Steve rubbed his eyes. 

“By the way you talk about her, I think she probably knew.” Bucky grinned. 

“I hope so.” 

They settled down for the night, side by side in their sleeping bags. 

Bucky couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten a lot off his chest, and it helped. Steve hadn’t said anything particularly profound in response, but just talking about it gave him the opportunity to relieve himself of some of the guilt and stress that was piling up. 

“Steve?” He whispered. 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve mumbled. 

“Is there anyone out there that you don’t know what happened to them? If they’re alive or dead?”

“My friends. Nat and Sam. They were in Washington, I was in New York. I just hope they got to Alaska by now.”

“I have my sister. We haven’t spoken in months. I regret that now.” 

Steve pulled his hand out of his sleeping bag and put it in Bucky’s. He linked their fingers and squeezed. 

The next morning they decided to take a risk in walking down to the nearest car lot. Bucky was a pro at hot wiring cars and it would get them to Alaska in double time. 

Steve’s rifle was still out of amo, but he insisted on carrying it around, saying ‘It’s a weapon in its own right, Buck. Don’t need no bullets.’

They made it to the car lot without encountering any zombies, which Bucky thought was too good to be true. 

Bucky made a beeline to the 4x4 in the centre of the lot, getting Steve to smash the window with the butt of his rifle. Steve smirked and muttered a “told you so.” Under his breath.

Bucky was trying to manoeuvre the wires into position to get the car going, when he heard a groan from Steve, then a shout. 

“Keep going, I can handle it!” 

So Bucky kept going until the engine revved to life and Steve dove into the passenger seat yelling “drive!” 

So Bucky drove. He didn’t begin whooping in celebration until they were out of the gates and driving north along the empty roads. 

He spared a glance at Steve. And there was blood. Lots of it.

“Tell me that’s not-“ Bucky started.

He trailed off upon seeing Steve’s pained eyes. He’d been bitten, the zombie had taken a good chunk out of Steve’s neck. It was a wonder he was still conscious. 

Bucky took his shirt off while keeping his foot on the gas. He threw it at Steve. “Use it to stop the bleeding.”

Bucky didn’t want to loose the one person he had left, even if he’d only know him a day. Bucky could talk to him about stuff, and the physical attraction was a bonus. 

He clenched his hands around the steering wheel. Steve could be like Gabe. He could be immune. Though what were the chances?

“Bucky, you’ve gotta-“ 

Bucky cut him off. “Shut up. Don’t you say it.” 

Steve softened. “Okay. For now.” 

Bucky gripped the wheel tighter. 

He found a pharmacy along to road by chance, stopping to collect supplies. He grabbed everything he thought he could need while Steve dozed in the car. 

If Bucky had to kill Steve, he’d do it. But not before he had to, and that was final. 

He knew infection had been what killed Morita and he wasn’t going to take that chance again, he wasn’t going to ignore Steve’s needs at the risk of him turning. 

He got in the car and dressed Steve’s wound, ignoring his protests. “Shut up, Steve.” He’d said gently, focusing on fixing him up. 

They drove for a couple more hours, stopping to set up camp in a think area of trees where they could park the 4x4 in close range. 

Bucky set up the fire while Steve slouched against a tree trunk, taking shallow breaths. 

“Why?” Steve asked. 

“Why what?” Bucky asked, confused. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Would you put a bullet through my brain?” Steve shook his head. “No. So I won’t do it to you.” 

“You don’t seem to want to accept that I’m not going to make it out of this, Buck. you have to eventually.” Steve said through chattering teeth. 

“You might yet. I had a friend who made it through. It was the infection that took him.” Bucky sighed.

“That’s- no. Not possible.” Steve shook his head.

“Well it happened. He was alive for a week after the bite and never turned.” 

“Even if it’s true, you don’t know that’s going to happen to me.” 

“I know, Steve. But you’re all I’ve got right now. You get that, right? I don’t want you to die.” Bucky squeezed his shoulder. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to die either.” Steve grinned. 

They sat by the fire for another hour or so before Bucky announced he was turning in. “You coming?” 

“I’ll sleep out here.” Steve mumbled.

“No you won’t. Come on Stevie.” Bucky argued.

“It’s not worth the risk.” 

“I’ve got my knife. If you try to eat my brains in the middle of the night I’ll stab you, right between the eyes. I promise.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

Bucky noticed he was looking pale, the purple under his eyes emphasised, his body slumped with fatigue. He hoped it was the wound, not the change. 

After they’d settled, Bucky spoke. “How you feeling, pal?” 

“Not too bad, but the change usually takes a couple of days.” 

“Don’t talk like that Steve, at least have some kind of hope.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m trying.” Steve confessed. “But I’m scared. I don’t want to get my hopes up. Or yours.” 

“I’m scared too.” 

They let some time lapse in silence before Steve spoke again. 

“I’m glad I met you. Thank you for saving me in that street.” He smiled softly. 

“So he finally admits it!” 

Steve laughed, a “shut up.” mumbled in between.

“But seriously, I’m glad I meet you too.” Bucky smiled back.

Steve reached his hand across them and placed it on Bucky’s cheek, tangling some of his hair in his fingers. 

“You scared me you know. In that supermarket. I liked you already then.” Steve said pulling their foreheads together. 

“I liked you when I heard you had a gun. But then you ran out of amo and I decided you’d have to do as you are.” 

Bucky’s heart was going at a million miles a minute and he swore that Steve could hear it.

He just laughed, tugging on Bucky’s hair. “Jerk.” 

“You like it though.” Bucky grinned.

“Yeah, I do.” 

Steve pulled their lips together, hesitantly, as if asking for permission. Bucky snaked his hand behind Steve’s neck, pulling him closer and holding him tight. 

Bucky wondered if this was a ‘I’m about to die’ thing on Steve’s part. If he’d be doing this if he knew he was going to get through the next few days. He tried not to think about it, and instead focus on how soft Steve’s lips were. 

Because god damn, they were soft. And this didn’t feel like an end of the world kiss, hot, quick and steamy. It felt more slow and real and paced. It felt right. 

They woke up the next morning, tangled in each other despite the sleeping bags and lack of space. 

Steve’s breaths were still shallow and unsteady, and he had more troubles finding the energy to move, but he wasn’t as exhausted or ill as should be expected. Bucky was getting his hopes up. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn’t help it.

They drove as far north as their 4x4 would take them before the gas ran out. 

Steve leaned back in his seat. “Now what?” He sighed.

Bucky thought. Steve couldn’t walk. They needed another car or more gas. 

Bucky got out of the car, prepared to walk to walk as far as needed.

He looked at Steve before he left. “Won’t be long.” 

“Don’t leave me!” It was the first time Bucky heard Steve sound genuine worried. Sure, he’d admitted his fear before, but had never actually shown it. 

Bucky felt guilty for being the reason. 

He got back in the car. “We need gas, or another car. Or we’re stranded here. You can’t walk, Steve. I’ll be as fast as I can. Okay?” 

Steve nodded. “Be safe.” 

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. “I will.” 

If he had anymore doubts about what Steve wanted, they were taken away by that smile. 

Bucky walked what felt like miles before he found an abandoned car with a full tank of gas by the side of the road. He didn’t let himself think about he odd it was. His priority was getting back to Steve. 

He got the engine going and was about to put the car in gear when a searing pain shot through the side of his face. 

The tell tale groan of a zombie was coming from behind him and he immediately knew what had happened. 

He drew his knife and turned to the back seat, stabbing the zombie through the back of the head. 

He hauled the corpse out of the car, retaking his seat, before letting it sink in. He’d been scratched. 

He clenched his hands around the steering wheel and took deep breaths.

The prospect of Steve being immune was outlandish enough, but both of them? That was next to impossible. 

He tried not to cry. He really did. But he was almost certainly going to die. He’d let so many people down. He wasn’t careful like he promised Steve. He was never going to get to Alaska for the howling commandos. He was never going to find out what happened to his sister. 

He contemplated driving away, not going back to Steve. Just so he wouldn’t have to see the look of disappointment on his face. 

But he wouldn’t do that, not to Steve. 

So he drove back, preparing himself for his reaction. For the telling off he was going to get. 

But he got back to an empty car. The door was open and there was blood dripped onto the seats. 

And oh god, what had happened to Steve. 

Bucky knew better than to shout, so he looked around, everywhere in the near vicinity. No trace of him, no evidence of where he’d gone. 

Bucky couldn’t give up, but he couldn’t find Steve anywhere. He sat on the floor, head resting against the hood of his new car, telling himself ‘deep breaths Bucky.’

“Buck?”

Bucky opened his eyes. “Steve?” He dove up. “Where the hell have you been? You scared the shit out of me!” 

Steve stepped closer, reaching out to the scratch on Bucky’s face. “What the hell Bucky?” He looked so small. And Bucky just wanted to tell him everything was going to be alright, but it wasn’t.

“I know. Let’s not- not right now.” 

“I feel better. I think you were right when you said I could be like your friend.” 

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief.

“But this,” Steve touched the cut and Bucky winced. “You idiot.” Steve’s voice broke slightly. 

“I know.” 

They kept driving, Steve at the wheel this time. Bucky deteriorated faster than Steve. He knew he wasn’t going to make it through when he started coughing blood. 

Neither Morita nor Steve had done that. 

“You gotta be ready you know?” Bucky asked Steve.

“I know. It doesn’t mean I like it.” 

“Make it to Alaska for me, yeah?” 

Steve nodded.

“Take my sister’s name. See if you can find out what happened to her for me.” 

Steve nodded again. Bucky passed him some paper with his sister details on from what he could remember.

“You can take these.” Bucky said, taking his dog tags off of his neck.

“Can you stop.” Steve croaked, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the road. 

“It won’t change anything Steve.” Bucky said, touching his arm. “I’ll still be dying no matter what we’re talking about. Just let me feel like I’m not leaving too much behind, like everything I need to do, to fix, is gonna get done.”

“Not leaving too much behind?” Steve yanked his arm back. “What about me.” 

“I don’t want to leave you behind, you have to know that.” 

“Why did you have to go out and get fucking scratched?” Steve rubbed his face. 

Later that evening they sat around a fire, warming their hands. Bucky knew he didn’t have long left. His eyes could barely stay open and his body wasn’t doing what it was told. He’d reached the end of the line.

“I’ll miss you.” Steve said, arm around him.

“If we had more time, I feel like I could’ve loved you, eventually.” Bucky said, drowsily. 

“Me too.” Steve said. 

Bucks eyes were falling shut. 

Steve was still talking. 

He caught words like “sister” and “Alaska” and “love” but none of it sunk in. 

Bucky’s grip on Steve’s hand loosened and everything went black.


End file.
